


A Very X-Men Halloween

by Misha Berry (MishaDerps)



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Gen, Gun Violence, Halloween, Haunted Houses, Kurt can be scary if he wants, Racism, The X-Men make bets about poop, Warren has hobbies, but only briefly, the kids have some fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 06:04:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8434489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MishaDerps/pseuds/Misha%20Berry
Summary: Every year, Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters put on a Haunted House for Halloween. Trouble, however, follows the X-Men everywhere, and it doesn't take the holidays off.Rude.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just something I put together quickly for Halloween. It was a lot of fun to write and I loved all the fun language I got to use. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I had fun writing it.
> 
> Have a happy and safe Halloween!

As the summer months began to fade into memory, the cool presence of autumn settled over Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. The days became shorter and the nights longer as the leaves on the trees began to erupt into violent bursts of yellow, orange, and red. The scent of cinnamon floated out from the kitchens as seasonal pastries were made; ginger snap cookies, apple crumbles, and pumpkin pies became commonplace, but no less loved. Those who were unused to the cold complained, but the ones who had lived through winters in the north teased that it would only get worse as winter trundled towards them. Sweaters and scarves were passed around between friends, and a few stubbornly held onto shorts and T-shirts, refusing to give up on the summer that had long since passed.

 

In the underbrush, small lives skittered about, gorging themselves or hiding things away in preparation for the coming scarcity of food. The wings of migratory birds itched as the instinct to travel south for the winter took over their primitive minds—a sentiment that some of the residents of the school shared.

 

As September slowly turned over into October, the thrilling blooms of colour began to shed from the branches, leaving trees naked. The cold wind bit at noses and cheeks like a startled animal, unmalicious, but with warning and the promise of sharper teeth. However, as the month turned, so did the minds of the students of the school. Jack-o-lanterns and construction paper bats and cats were common daydreams, floating along in the collective minds of students, carried along by anxieties about assignments due and anxieties of interpersonal relationships.

 

To many students, however, an excitement began to grow inside, gearing up to burst forth in a raucous display of ghoulish festivity.

 

“Haunted house?” Kurt asked, with a slight tilt of his head, “What is haunted house?”

 

Scott looked up at him, “You don't know what haunted houses are?” he asked skeptically.

 

“I don’t know either,” Ororo pointed out, “Is it to do with this holiday you have? Hallowed Ween?”

 

“ _ Halloween _ ,” Jean corrected, “And yes, mostly. Haunted houses are places where people go to get scared on or around Halloween. It’s a bit like interactive performance art.”

 

“The school does one every year,” Jubilee said, grinning, “I got to be a werewolf last year.”

 

“I love haunted houses,” Peter said, leaning back in his chair, tilting it back onto it’s back legs, dangerously close to tipping it right back over, “Halloween is the  _ best _ . Free candy and all kinds of horror movies come out. Plus an excuse to dress up and scare the shit out of people.”

 

“Lame,” Scott scoffed, though internally he couldn’t deny all the fun he’d had as a kid, trick-or-treating with his older brother in cobbled together costumes.

 

“I love halloween,” Jean said, “I wasn’t on the committee for the haunted house last year, but I helped hand out candy to trick-or-treaters. I think I’ll do the haunted house this year though.” She twirled her pen thoughtfully, “Maybe like a witch, or a poltergeist or something,” she said, rattling the various pens and papers laid out on the table to emphasise her point.

 

“I still don’t think I understand this holiday,” Ororo said, “What is it for?”

 

“It’s an old pagan holiday leftover from Celtic tradition,” Warren interjected before anyone could say anything, “It was converted to a Christian holiday from an old Gaelic harvest holiday called ‘Samhain’. It was believed that it was the day that the barrier between this world and the next was the thinnest, and spirits could cross into our world. So they wore elaborate masks to disguise themselves so the spirits would leave them alone,” he said. He looked up to notice that everyone was staring at him, “What?”

 

“How the hell do you know that?” Scott asked.

 

Warren’s wings puffed up like they did when he was mad or embarrassed (though he denied that this happened), “I can have hobbies,” he growled.

 

“Besides drinking and getting into fights?” Peter chuckled. Warren reached out with his foot and kicked the leg of Peter’s tilted chair, sending him crashing backwards onto the floor with a yelp.

 

“Anyway,” Jean said forcefully before the two boys could get into a fight, “There are a lot of ways to celebrate Halloween, and a haunted house is one of them.”

 

“There’s also bobbing for apples, pumpkin carving, and trick-or-treating!” Jubilee chirped, “That’s where you dress up and go to random strangers houses for candy.”

 

“That sounds dangerous,” Ororo said, but everyone seemed so happy about it, she didn’t voice her concerns. Maybe it was an American thing.

 

“Well, there are chaperones for younger kids, usually,” Scott said, “So no one gets kidnapped.” He couldn’t help but remember Halloween’s passed when his brother would take him trick-or-treating in homemade, cobbled together costumes.

 

“And the school does a haunted house?” Ororo asked.

 

“Yeah, it’s kind of a tradition for the school. We rent out one of the halls in town and set up a bunch of things to scare people. You basically get led through a bunch of set pieces that the students get to design,” Jean said, “It’s always a great way for the townspeople to be more familiar with us, to not be so afraid of us.”

 

“They’re encouraged to not be scared of us by going to an event where we deliberately scare them?” Scott asked, “Yeah,  _ that _ makes sense.”

 

Jean rolled her eyes as Jubilee leaned over and punched Scott in the arm, making him yelp, “It brings us together as a community, and shows that all our scariness is fabricated. Plus, afterwards we have a big bonfire with hot chocolate and goodie bags for participants.”

 

“There’s actually a competition for the schools in the area,” Jubilee said, “We always enter, but we never win. Something about us having an unfair advantage over the other schools. Whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

 

“Racists,” Warren growled. The rest of the table muttered a little, not wanting to admit it, but unable to deny it either.

 

“Hey Kurt,” Peter said suddenly, breaking the tension, “You should be a part of the haunted house. You’d do a great scare.”

 

“You think so?” Kurt asked, “I don’t think so. It seems so mean to scare people on purpose.”

 

“Yeah, you do plenty of scaring just by yourself,” Warren said, chuckling. After the months of healing and rebuilding his mind and learning to forgive and leave his past behind, Warren still couldn’t resist a chance to poke at Kurt a little.

 

Kurt was used to it by now and knew that it was harmless enough, but he sighed, “I don’t think it would be a good idea,” he said forlornly.

 

Ororo leaned over and smacked Warren across the back of the head as Jean reached across the table and patted Kurt’s arm comfortingly, “People go to haunted houses to be scared deliberately,” she said, “I think they would love you.”

 

Kurt smiled at Jean, “You think so?”

 

“Yeah man, it’s not that different from the circus,” Jubilee said, “It’s a performance.”

 

Kurt felt a bit more confident, “I suppose so,” he said, “I do miss the circus sometimes.”

 

“That’s the spirit,” Jean said, “And if you decide not to be a scare, you can still be a part of the haunted house. We always need people to make sets and costumes.”

 

Kurt smiled and nodded, “Okay, it sounds like a lot of fun.”

 

“Yay!” Jubilee cheered, “You’re going to love it!”

 

“I would like to know more about American holidays,” Ororo said, “I will join also.”

 

Peter was almost vibrating with excitement, “I’ve always thought I’d be a great ghost,” he said, running a hand through his white hair.

 

“Think I could pull of some kind of avenging angel shit to scare the religious folks?” Warren asked, flicking his wings.

 

Scott sighed, “I guess if you’re all doing it,” he said, but secretly he was pleased. Jean raised a knowing eyebrow at him and elbowed him playfully.

 

“Alright then, an X-Men haunted house it is!” Jean said, smiling brightly.

 

* * *

 

As the days counted down to Halloween, preparations for the haunted house seemed to take over everything else. The entire school seemed to be excited for it, much to the dismay of the teachers trying desperately to keep the student’s attentions in class. The distraction was just too great, however, and most days, classes let out a few minutes early so people could work on costumes, sets, and props. An old sewing machine was acquired, as well as second-hand power tools. Old junk was repurposed and beautified—or creepified, in many cases. People argued about scripts and choreography, as well as makeup and materials.

 

Eventually, even the teachers got a little giddy over the whole thing. They helped organize the event, acquired materials and equipment, as well as gave advice on how to set things up. The Professor made sure that the hall they would use would be rented out to them for a the big day. It was becoming quite the event.

 

“Do you think we might win this year?” Jubilee asked, helping paint a set piece in black, “The competition for the best haunted house?”

 

“No idea,” Jean said, “We have a pretty good set up this year.”

 

“I don’t think we will,” Scott said, “From what I’ve heard, we’ve had some pretty awesome houses before, and we’ve only ever gotten third at best. Plus, with all the new tensions around mutants, I’m actually surprised that they’ve allowed us to enter the contest.”

 

“Bunch’a racists,” Warren growled, taking a break from painting and having a cigarette. He wasn’t really allowed to smoke on school grounds (and he was supposed to be quitting), but there were no teachers around to tell him off.

 

“They have to let us win this year,” Jubilee said, “No one will be able to beat Kurt’s scare. He’s going to be the talk of the town for  _ years _ .”

 

“Do not tell him that,” Ororo said, “He may love performing, but he’s being so shy about this.”

 

“Maybe it’s because this is his first American audience?” Peter suggested, “And people will know that he’s a mutant, not a costume.”

 

“Plus—” Warren exhaled a plume of smoke, “The last time he was set up to ‘perform’ was in Berlin with me.”

 

“Yikes, no wonder he’s a little nervous,” Scott said.

 

“But he’s going to be so good though!” Jubilee said, “I bet someone poops their pants!”

 

“I’ll take that bet,” Peter said with a grin, “Ten bucks?”

 

“You’re on!” Jubilee cheered, “Prepare to lose to a girl, Maximoff.”

 

They laughed and bantered some more. More bets were placed, and the set got painted. Warren finished his cigarette just as Dr. McCoy came in to check on them. He knew Warren was smoking, but since he couldn’t prove it, he couldn’t do anything about it (something that made Warren slightly gleeful and keep testing his boundaries). Kurt followed Dr. McCoy, his usual cheerful self, but with an undercurrent of anxiety.

 

“Something wrong Kurt?” Jean asked, unable to ignore the anxious prickle any longer. Telepathy was a gift and a curse.

 

“No, not really,” Kurt said. Jean raised an eyebrow at him and he crumbled under her gaze, “I suppose I’m just worried about the haunted house.”

 

“Not again,” Peter groaned, “Kurt, we keep telling you, people  _ want _ to get scared in the haunted house. That’s the point. It’s like watching a horror movie, it’s  _ supposed _ to be scary.”

 

“It’s not that,” Kurt said, climbing up onto a table, unable to sit still and craving a higher vantage point, “What if they don’t like my act? What if they think I am a cheater?”

 

“Cheater?” Scott asked, “Because of the way you look?”

 

“Oh Kurt,” Jean sighed, “No one will think that. They’re going to love you.”

 

Kurt didn’t look comforted and only climbed higher, into the rafters of the garage they were working in. He prefered high spots when he was nervous or upset, since most people didn't think to look up and he could see more from higher up.

 

“There’s nothing wrong with playing to your strengths dude,” Warren said, “If they think you’re cheating, fuck ‘em.”

 

“You’re the costume and makeup peoples dream,” Jubilee said, “You barely need any work at all.”

 

With a gust of wind, Ororo carried herself up into the rafters to be on the same level with Kurt, “You will be fine,” she decreed, “And if anyone gives you trouble, I will show them their mistake.” The air around her fizzled a little with electricity.

 

“I don’t think threatening to zap people will make them think any better of mutants,” Scott said.

 

“Yeah, it would probably have the opposite effect,” Peter chuckled, “Most likely.”

 

Ororo rolled her eyes and pulled Kurt into a hug, “We are here for you,” she said.

 

Kurt sighed deeply and nuzzled into Ororo’s shoulder, “Danke,” he mumbled, feeling a bit better. He leapt down from the rafters, landing easily, “Is the coffin painted?” he asked.

 

“Yup, all done,” Jubilee said, “Just needs the detailing, and we’re good to go.” She wiggled gaily, “I’m going to be the best vampire ever!”

 

The other X-Men rolled their eyes and laughed. Jubilee had insisted on being a vampire this year, and everyone had been bowled over in her exuberance and had gone along with it. Once Jubilee set her mind to something, there was no turning it back.

 

* * *

 

The day finally arrived. The sets had been built and painted, props and costumes finished, and everyone in high spirits. Everything was moved to the rented meeting hall where they were going to set up in. The big hall was cleared out to make space and a maze like structure was put in. Rooms were sectioned off, leading the participants through the different sets one at a time. The structure finally led to a completely blacked out hallway that led outside to the end of the haunted house and to a bonfire where hot chocolate was served and goodie bags filled with candies were passed around.

 

All of the sets were unique, and a lot of effort had been put into each of them. Jean and Scott were the chaperones, leading the participants through the house in groups. Jean also doubled as a kind of ‘poltergeist’, moving things with her mind to spring out at participants. Jubilee was, of course, a vampire, who jumped out of a coffin and hissed (quite convincingly) at participants. Ororo was not an act herself, but functioned as a set piece, creating fog and rushes of cold air when and where needed. Peter got to be a ghost, pale and ‘disappearing’ and ‘reappearing’ in random places, sometimes popping up right behind shoulders. Warren was a fallen angel, tangled in chains and blood spattered, howling as he tried in vain to ‘escape’ from the chains and attack the participants.

 

There were other sets, including a witch cackling over a bubbling cauldron, a grotesque banquet of body parts with feasting zombies who lurched towards the groups coming through, and a mad scientist experimenting on an unfortunate soul in a grim lab, to name a few. The pièce de résistance, however, was Kurt, a shadow that stalked each group through the maze of sets, never in clear view, but just present enough for people to get glimpses of him. This is, until the end of the maze and the group entered the blacked out hallway, devoid of any light except for a dim, naked bulb at the entrance. Jean or Scott, who had been building up the idea that ‘something’ was following them, would suddenly feel spooked and look behind them, only to see the backlit silhouette of a demonic figure rushing towards them. They would promptly scream and tell the group of participants to run for the exit before being ‘killed’ and dragged away by a snarling and hissing Kurt.

 

It was a great set up, and test runs spooked even people who knew what was coming. Everyone was looking forward to the big day, even those who hadn’t been involved in making the house.

 

“There’s no way we can’t win!” Jubilee chirped, putting on her vampire makeup with exuberance.

 

“I’d sure like to think so,” Jean said, liberally smearing fake blood all over Warren. The toga thing he was wearing was a leftover bloody sheet from last year (worn over shorts, to prevent any accidents of immodesty).

 

Warren shrugged, “If we don’t, it just proves me right. That they’re all a bunch of racist hicks.”

 

“Hicks might be pushing it,” Peter said, gingerly applying his ghost makeup, “This is Westchester, not out in the sticks.”

 

“Whatever, they’re just as inbred,” Warren said, grinning.

 

“Warren!” Jean smacked him, but the others were laughing.

 

“What? I’m from the same kind of place, I know how it is,” Warren said.

 

“Doesn’t that make you inbred?” Scott teased. Warren flicked some fake blood at him.

 

“Careful,” Kurt said, “Or you’re going to get blood everywhere.”

 

“I think that would actually help,” Ororo said, “Having random blood in places? Make everything scarier.”

 

“It would, but we can’t change things up now,” Jean said, stepping away from Warren, “We open in a half an hour, everyone get moving to your places.”

 

The group quickly shuffled through the rest of their prep and hightailed it to their sets. Scott and Jean donned their long guide’s cloaks and robes, coloured deep red. Jean’s hood rest gently on top of her head, while Scott’s was pulled down over his face, obscuring it. The general consensus was that his special glasses didn’t mesh well with the tone they were trying to put on.

 

“We’re opening in six minutes!” Jean called, “Everyone ready?”

 

A host of affirmatives and then Jean flicked the main lights off. Ororo started a rolling fog throughout the entire hall; dressed in all black, she was hard to see from her place high above the maze structure. The high ceilings of the hall allowed her to see everything, and follow along with the groups. It also allowed Kurt to walk along on top of the maze, which had criss-crossing boards over it, specifically for him to walk on.

 

The students took a collective breath, and then the doors opened to let the people in.

 

* * *

 

Things went smoothly for the first part of the night, with no incidents and quite a few joyful screams of terror. Every set elicited delighted fear, but as predicted, Kurt’s slow stalking and final chase was the crown jewel of the house, with terrified participants running out to the end of the hall and through the blackout curtains into the night screaming their lungs out, only to be met with the friendly faces of mutant students handing out candy, one of whom, Felicity, could emit pheromones of calming into the air. There had been the idea that she would be inside, adding to the unease and anxiety of the house, but that idea was scrapped when it was pointed out that she might cause someone to have an actual panic attack.

 

The chatter from the participants who had gone through was almost entirely positive. They raved about who scared they’d been, and how amazing the sets and props had been (some not realizing that some of the props were actually mutant abilities or appendages). Only one or two people denied that they had been scared, but these people were disregarded, clearly fibbing to seem tougher.

 

Trouble, however, had a penchant for finding the X-Men, whether they wanted it to or not.

 

About two thirds of the way through the night, a group of three college age boys came through, swaggering with confidence and barely concealed sneers. Jean immediately sensed something malicious about them, but she couldn’t turn them away without good reason, and let them join a group consisting of some high schoolers (two boys and two girls, clearly couples) and a family of three (a father, a preteen, and a grade schooler), hoping that would dissuade any assholery.

 

Her hopes went unrealized, however, and she and Scott had to constantly keep their eyes on them as they continually messed with sets and harassed actors. One of them even rushed up to Jubilee’s coffin and started kicking it, laughing over his shoulders at his buddies, who laughed along in approval. Jubilee jumped out almost right onto him, making him shriek like a child (which he then tried to play off as though he hadn’t just been scared by a little girl half his size wearing a vampire costume).

 

“Please don't stray from the path,” Jean called, glaring sternly at the boys, “For safety reasons, you should remain only on the designated path.” She didn’t mention that it was for the actor’s safety as well, since it would ruin the atmosphere.

 

“Pffft, whatever,” one of the boys scoffed. One of the other boys muttered something derogatory under his breath.

 

“We gotta remove these guys,” Scott whispered to Jean, “They’re messing with everyone and screwing it up.”

 

“I know, I know,” Jean said, “But three strikes, remember? They’ve got two more before we’re allowed to remove them.”

 

Scott grumbled, but refrained from saying anything else. He tugged his hood further over his face and swept aside the curtain for the group to go through, “This way please,” he rasped, still managing to be in character.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Scott spotted Kurt near Jubilee, brushing off the scuffs left by the boy’s kicks. He looked like just a crouched figure in the dark, the only thing visible about him was his eyes, reflecting in the dim light and glowing bright yellow-orange.

 

“What’s that?” Jean called softly (but clear enough to be heard), as though she were transfixed in horror at what she was seeing.

 

Sure enough, everyone in the group turned, catching a glimpse of eyes watching them from the shadows before they disappeared with a muffled ‘bamf’ and a puff of smoke. The children clung to their father, and the high school girls clung to their high school boyfriends. The college boys jumped, but laughed amongst themselves, clearly pretending not to be impressed.

 

Jean resisted the urge to roll her eyes (Scott did not), and ushered the group into the next set, “Move along, move along,” she said, keeping her voice anxious and glancing behind her once more, “We don't want to tarry too long.”

 

The family and the high schoolers walked right along, but the swaggering college boys dragged behind like slow, stupid cows, trying to assert their dominance over these stupid muties by holding up the group. Jean wanted to hijack their brains and  _ make _ them walk, but didn’t, knowing that these boys would only cry home to their lawyer daddies and make trouble for the school.

 

They went through the next few sets in similar fashion. It was evident that the college boys were not there to enjoy some scares, but to harass the mutant students who they feared, and therefore hated because they could not understand their fear. Strike two came in the form of one of them reaching out to pluck a white feather right out of Warren’s wing, ‘just to see if it was real or not’. Warren, not pleased in the slightest, ‘broke’ free of his chains and chased them out of the set.

 

“One again,” Jean said, having rushed them out of Warren’s set, “ _ Please _ , for safety reasons,  _ do not _ stray from the designated path.” If her voice sounded strained, it was from the mounting frustration she felt.

 

“You’ll regret it,” Scott warned, still raspy, but more authoritative.   
  


One of the college boys, a half head taller than Scott and around thirty pounds heavier, puffed out his chest, “What’re you gonna do about it, mutie?” he snarled with an ugly grin.

 

“Now son,” the father stepped forward, his two children close behind him, “We’re all here for a good time. No need for any of that.”

 

The college boy was quite big, but the father, with his brilliant salt-and-pepper mustache, was much larger, with thick biceps and a wizened power that belied his jutting beer gut. For the first time that night, the college boy made a smart decision and backed down.

 

Jean breathed a sigh of relief and gestured to the next curtain, “Shall we continue?”

 

Just then, the was a rattle from above, as though something was crawling over the short hallway between sets. It was once again Kurt, but all anyone could see was blackness. The high schoolers yelped and the children cried out and clung to their father, and even the college boys jolted.

 

“Quickly!” Jean hissed, waving them through the next curtain. They stepped out into the zombie feast scene and continued.

 

Things were quiet for the next few scenes, and Jean thought that might be the end of it. It was too good to be true, however, and things went to hell in the last set before the final hallway.

 

The last scene before the hallway was a long pathway with cages filled with straightjacketed asylum patients locked in cages along either side. They pressed against the bars and reached for the groups when their hands slipped free of their jackets, snagging hair and clothes by just a fraction. They howled and rattled inside the cages, jolting them around like they might escape any second.

 

Jean led the group towards the final hallway, looking appropriately frightened when one patient grabbed a fistfull of her cloak and refused to let go. She played at tugging her cloak out of their filthy (with make up) nails when she heard a yelp that was not one of the groups. She looked up just in time to see the collage boys tip over one of the cages. The girl inside, who she recognized as Ariane, a sweet girl from Montreal who could make plants grow by touching them (she had the most amazing garden at the school), was screaming in fright, calling for help. The cage tipped and slammed into the ground, bringing Ariane down with it; there was a loud bang and the sound of a bone breaking, Ariane’s arm, by the looks of it.

 

“Alright, that does it!” Scott shouted, tossing back his hood, “You three need to leave, now!”

 

Though they were slightly taken aback by Scott’s authoritative tone, they recovered quickly, and the lead boy shoved Scott in the chest, “Who’s going to make us, freak?”

 

Scott grunted as he was pushed. Immediately, the cages all opened and the patients stepped out, ready to come to Scott’s aid. The father rushed to help Ariane, along with some other students, who was crying loudly in pain, clutching her arm and ruining her makeup.

 

The college boys weren’t impressed, even as they were outnumbered, “Come on, come at us mutie freaks!” one of them shouted, thumping his chest like the ape he was showing himself to be.

 

Scott growled and stepped forward, knowing that he had the training to take out all three of them without actually hurting them. He was nearly upon them when the lead one pulled out a gun.

 

The entire room froze, eyes now fixed on the gun. The lead boy grinned, “What do you think you’re gonna do now, freak?”

 

“Chase man, you said you were gonna leave that thing at home,” one of the other boys said, “Put that thing away before you do something stupid.”

 

‘Chase’ wasn’t having any of it and pointed the gun at Scott’s chest, still grinning. The one boy looked nervous, but the other looked downright  _ gleeful _ at the prospect of murdering a mutant kid.

 

All of a sudden, the gun flew from Chase’s hand, “What the fuck?” he said, then he began screaming as all three of them were lifted into the air by an invisible force.

 

“That’s enough of that,” Jean said, hand extended as she used her ability to suspend the boys above the ground where they couldn’t cause any more trouble.

 

“What the fuck is this!? What the fuck  _ is this!? _ ” One of the boys shouted, flailing in a vain attempt to free himself.

 

“You can’t do this to us!” Chase shouted, ren in the face with fear and anger, “Put us down! You can’t do this!”

 

“You were warned,” Jean said sternly, “And now you will be removed.”

 

_ Kurt, teleport them outside _ , she projected to Kurt, who was still in the shadows, but had seen everything.

 

_ With pleasure _ , he thought back. Of course, Kurt was a professional performer, and knew that the show wasn’t over until it was over. So, he crept from the shadows on all fours, moving in an inhuman way, tail lashing behind him, eyes glowing and fangs flashing.

 

Having caught on to what he was doing, the other students began to cower, fleeing into their cages and whimpering in fear. The family and the high schoolers trembled until Jean winked at them. The college boys began to scream in honest to God terror.

 

“What the fuck is that thing!” Chase howled, trying to kick at Kurt.

 

“I tried to warn you!” Scott shouted, “Now you’ll  _ really _ regret it!”

 

The college boys screamed, one of them burst into tears. Kurt advanced, crawling over the tipped cage. He snarled and leapt into the air, catching one of the boys by the front before disappearing in a puff of smoke. The remaining two began to shriek so loudly that actors from other sets began poking their heads in to see what was going on. Kurt returned after a few seconds and leapt on the next boy, teleporting him away as well.

 

Chase, who was the only one left now, thrashed about wildly in fear. He caught Jean’s eyes for a second.

 

“See you in hell,” Jean said coldly, tilting her head up and looking for all the world like a witch summoning her demon to drag her victims to hell. Kurt chose that exact moment to reappear right in front of Chase, suspended in the air (by Jean), grinning and showing off his white fangs.

 

Chase stopped screaming, went completely white in the face, and passed out just as Kurt teleported him away.

 

The entire house went silent, shell-shocked by what had just happened. Seeing that she might have freaked out the other two groups a little too much, reached out with her powers to flick on the main lights, “I’m so sorry about that. Are you all okay?”

 

The mustachioed father blinked, “Er, I think this girl needs a hospital,” he said, not sure what to make of what just happened. His children looked up at Jean in awe.

 

Jean nodded, “I contacted someone outside to call an ambulance and the police, they’ll be here soon,” she said, “Can you make a statement?”

 

The father shifted on his feet, “I suppose so. Can’t you?”

 

Jean shrugged, “They might believe you more,” she said.

 

“Why?” he asked.

 

“Because you’re a human adult and we’re mutant kids,” Scott said, in a kind of ‘duh, idiot’ tone.

 

The father looked like he might like to chastise Scott for his tone, but only nodded, “Alright, alright,” he said.

 

Kurt suddenly reappeared, blinking in the sudden brightness of the room, “Is everyone okay?” he asked.

 

“Holy shit!” one of the high school boys yelped, “You actually look like that!”

 

Kurt only gave the boy a very unimpressed look, “Yes, I look like this,” he said, gearing up to defend himself.

 

“Dude,  _ dude! _ ” the boy exclaimed, “That was  _ awesome! _ ”

 

Kurt blinked, “It was?”

 

The high schoolers and the preteen child all agreed excitedly, “I thought I was gonna  _ die _ my heart was beating so hard!” “You’re scary as  _ shit _ man!” “This was the best haunted house  _ ever _ !”

 

Kurt blushed, smiling shyly under the praise. Scott, Jean, and the others who had gathered around them grinned smugly, as though saying ‘I told you so’ with their faces. Kurt flicked his tail at them, knowing he would be teased endlessly later. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the little grade school child, a girl of maybe seven or eight and dressed as a fairy princess, watching his tail swish about from behind her father’s legs.

 

Smiling kindly at her, careful not to show his fangs too much, Kurt knelt down and extended his tail towards her, “It’s alright, I only look scary,” he promised.

 

“Yeah, on the inside he’s a big marshmallow,” Warren called from where he was leaning over a wall. Ororo, sitting on her perch, reached out and kicked him lightly in the head.

 

The little girl looked up at her father. He gave her a nod and a smile, so, curiosity getting the better of her, she reached out and took hold of the spaded end of Kurt’s tail. Kurt wiggled it a little and she giggled, no longer afraid of him. Because someone who was nice like him couldn’t possibly be truly mean, not like those older boys, right?

 

Kurt led the group down the now fully lit hallway, letting the girl keep ahold of his tail as they walked. Jean and Scott took Ariane aside and out the side door to wait for the ambulance. The police had also arrived, so they gave statements and handed over the firearm and pointed out the boys who had caused the trouble (or one of them, who was just regaining consciousness on the bench Kurt had placed him on). The father handed his children off to his wife, who had been waiting near the bonfire for them, while high schoolers wandered off to find friends who had already gone through the house.

 

After an hour of talking to the police and getting Ariane all bundled away to the hospital (the Professor along for the ride), Jean, Scott, and Kurt all returned to the haunted house, its magic diminished by the bright lights overhead.

 

“So, are we shutting down early or what?” Warren asked. It was still two hours before they were set to close.

 

“No, we can keep on if everyone’s okay with that,” Scott said.

 

“If anyone wants to go home, they can,” Jean called, but there was a general response of the negative. They wanted to stay and finish the night.

 

“What do we do about Ari?” someone asked, glancing at the now righted cage, sitting empty of its madwoman.

 

Jean thought for a moment, “Leave one of the cages open, near the end, to make it look like one of you escaped,” she said to the straightjacketed students, who looked pleased with her solution.

 

The students began to wander back to their sets, resetting props and climbing back into cages, coffins, and crypts. Kurt hopped up onto the walls, then remembered something, “Oh! And by the way, Jubilee won the pot. One of those guys pooped himself.”

 

“Ha! Pay up Maximoff!”

 

“God fucking damn it!”

**Author's Note:**

> Kurt would be amazing at Haunted Houses, and coming up with all the scenarios was a blast. Using their mutant powers to their advantage for something other than fighting isn't something that gets touched on enough. Hope you liked it!


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